


The Rough Patch

by ExplicitNature



Series: Coming Home [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anger, Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplicitNature/pseuds/ExplicitNature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finally returns to Baker Street after 3 years hunting down Moriarty's associates. He arrives home to a warm and welcoming Ms. Hudson, but John doesn't react the same way. Sherlock must be patient with John as John struggles with his emotions toward Sherlock's return and just Sherlock in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rough Patch

Sherlock Holmes had never felt fear so intense in all of his life. Not even when he stared death in the face, which happened quite frequently. The fear Sherlock felt, standing in front of his old flat on Baker Street, is by far the only moment in which he felt paralyzingly apprehensive.

He had told Ms. Hudson of his return about two days in advance, but only she, Mycroft, and Molly were aware of his whereabouts. He texted Ms. Hudon that he was just outside. Sherlock knew John was currently occupying the flat on the lower level, and Sherlock didn't want to wake him. Within ten seconds of sending the text, Sherlock was enveloped in frail arms. Ms. Hudson was like the mother Sherlock wasn't estranged with, just as Sherlock was like an adopted son to Ms. Hudson. 

Ms. Hudson pulled away to study Sherlock. His hair was red now, and he was noticeably thinner. 

"Other than the hair, it's like you never left, dear." She planted a kiss on Sherlock's cheek before she helped him with his luggage. 

\---

The footsteps upstairs awoke John before his nightmare had the chance. About a few times every month it seemed, John would wake screaming the same name every time. The nightmares of his days in the army were replaced by the scarring memory of a pale figure motionless in a sticky pool of red. After three years, the face in his dreams has morphed from quite vivid to faded as John's memories have dulled. The dreams were quite frequent until he met Mary.

After a year of mourning the death of his old friend, John met Mary in the shops. She was a redheaded woman with soft curves and a pale, freckled complexion. Her eyes were a deep green and drew John in from the start. They ended up chatting for a while, and before he knew it John found himself in a committed relationship. 

After five months of dating, John decided to leave his past behind and move in with Mary. It was one year and three months of nothing but love an commitment when John proposed to Mary. She accepted and they decided to be married as soon as possible. One month into the engagement and John had his heart broken. 

It was a Friday after a long shift at the surgery when John decided to take the rest of the day off and surprise Mary. With a bouquet of roses he entered the flat to find a naked man on top of a naked Mary. 

John cut off all contact with her and left in a haste. He hailed a taxi and headed to Baker Street, praying Ms. Hudson still hadn't rented out the lower flat. Ms. Hudson excepted John's rent in a heartbeat, and he moved in immediately. His old flat upstairs held too many memories that he didn't have the strength to resurface. John hadn't even noticed how few nightmares he had when he was with Mary, until he awoke constantly screaming the name of a certain consulting detective. As time passed, Mary was only a distant memory of when John was at peace with his past. With Mary out of his life, John fell into a stubborn depression that slowly, but not completely, dissipated over time. All of that changed when John climbed the stairs to see who was at the door. 

\---

Sherlock was walking through the doorway of 221B with his last suitcase when he saw John. He was still the same John he remembered from three years ago. Sherlock watched as John stood in his pajama pants and undershirt, the color draining from John's face. Sherlock froze, petrified. 

"Joh-" Before Sherlock could finish, John padded down the stairs and re-emerged with shoes and a coat in hand. He walked swiftly past Sherlock and headed out for a walk in the cold, brisk London air. 

\---

'No.' was all John managed to make of the situation. 'No. It- it's not possible. He's dead, John. Your imagination is fucking with you. Your cruel, cruel imagination.'

\---

Sherlock stood bewildered in the doorway. It wasn't an ideal way to reveal the truth to John, but at least it was over with. Now all Sherlock could do was unpack his bags and wait for John's return. 

Sherlock paced the flat for hours, contemplating whether he should stay or try to find John. At around 4:00pm (7 hours since Sherlock first arrived), John entered the hall downstairs. Sherlock wasted no time in making a beeline for John. 

\---

Before he could reach the door to his flat, John was pinned to the wall by his biceps. The being pinning him struck a wave of cold into his very core. 

"John. John, please-"

"No. Just-" John's voice was almost a whisper, painfully cracking, "No." 

"Let me explain." 

John tried his best to wriggle free of Sherlock's iron grasp, but his body failed him. 

"You can't. It can't be." John's voice was almost inaudible. "You're... dead."

"Obviously not, John." 

Did Sherlock always say John's name so frequently? 

"I saw you- I saw you jump. Y-you were dead." 

"Come with me." John had no real reason not to follow. He used to trust Sherlock with his life. Used to. 

Sherlock closed to door behind John and gestured to John's old armchair. John hesitantly sat. 

"Moriarty was real. He posed as an actor to get people to doubt me." 

"Yes." 

"Yes what?" Sherlock looked honestly confused. 

"Moriarty used the alias of a victim of a case you had once solved." 

"I see you did your research, John." 

"Do you think I didn't try to clear your name?" John sounded annoyed, and for a split second, John thought he saw the twitch of a smile on Sherlock's lips. 

"Just let me finish. Moriarty had people in position to shoot the people I cared about, including you, John. He wanted me to take my own life in order to save my friends." The word 'friends felt a little odd in his mouth. "He admitted that as long as he was alive, I didn't have to jump. Moriarty then proceeded to shoot himself, and I had no choice but to commit suicide." 

"But you're here." John felt utterly confused. 

"I got the idea from Miss Adler. You remember how she faked her death? Yes, well, I took Molly up on her offer to provide me with her assistance. She helped me with my 'suicide'. She gave me access to blood and a rubber ball. Before the confrontation with Moriarty, I placed the rubber ball under my arm to stop the circulation. Hence the lack of a pulse. When I fell, I made sure a bus was in place in front of the spot I fell to. Behind the bus, I was able to land safely and spread the blood Molly had provided me. When the bus moved, I seemed dead to all who thought they witnessed my suicide. I was sent to the morgue where Molly filled out the required paperwork to justify my death while I escaped." 

John was confused. He was furious Sherlock had kept him out of the whole scheme, but all he could utter was, "brilliant." 

Sherlock could see the pain in John's eyes as he continued to explain, "I couldn't tell you. You had to believe that I was a fake. It had to be believable. I spent three years tracking down Moriarty's chain of assassins. Why, just last week, I finished the job and shot the man who was ordered to kill Ms. Hudson." Sherlock looked undeniably smug. "It was a relief to be able to come back home. To London, and to you." Sherlock looked nearly broken as he choked out the last confession, "I did it to protect you." 

"Well, you did a shit job!" 

Sherlock was shocked at John's words. John left the flat in a haste as Sherlock called out, "John! John, where are you going?" 

"None of your fucking business, Holmes!"

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Several chapters and parts yet to come!


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